Aggression
by Pluto
Summary: Seifer runs across a bloodied Squall battling a T-Rexaur in the Training Area, and is torn between helping - for his own selfish / vengeful reasons - and watching his rival lose. If you're really sensitive, has some shonenai (m/m) hints, and you might wa


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**Aggression  
**by Pluto 

(This little bit is for Alexis mostly, and Rose, and Llamajoy/Tenshi no Korin who wrote such a lovely set of Seifer stuffs, and I'm sorry I couldn't do any better for you guys ^_^;; None of the characters are mine, of course, belong to Squaresoft. Constructive critique, commentary welcome!)

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Fucking Leonhart. He was always turning up.

Maybe Squall was following him. Maybe he was following Squall. 

Seifer let his arm slack, let Hyperion's point scrape shallowly through the hard dirt of the Training Area grounds. He'd have to wait for his turn, apparently. A smirk pulled at his lips, but inside, his stomach was twisting: Anger, envy, something worse. 

Some distance in front of him, Leonhart tensed, swinging back his gunblade to deliver a technically flawless blow to his opponent's flank, the explosion as he pulled the trigger rocking the combatants apart. Perfect little Squall, matched up against a T-Rexaur, beauty and the beast (fuck, did he just call Squall 'beauty'?), his face gashed between the brows with concentration. The T-Rexaur that /Seifer'd/ come here looking for: brutal, slavering lizard that (what did Trepes always say?) you were better off running from if you encountered it. 

Seifer would never run from one, so like hell if Squall would run from one, either. That was how it was, wasn't it, Leonhart? Even when he was outmatched, blood running like a fucking river down one arm, too busy catching his breath to be casting anything so necessary as Cure, he had that arrogance. Ice Princess Squall, never one to panic, never one to bother with such a waste of time as fear and losing, always one hell of a cool cat. 

Seifer considered helping him out, for a brief moment, if only for the fact that it would piss Leonhart off royally. He'd turn and glare with those storm-sky eyes and fucking /hate/ Seifer in that moment, and that would be worth it for SeeD's top-ranking (and longest lasting) cadet. 

It'd be even more worth it, though, to just stand there and watch. Watch Leonhart's self-assured expression melt into defeat, or unconsciousness. Wait for him to fall under those snapping teeth and ferocious charges. It could happen. Hell. Little Leonhart all by himself against a T-Rexaur? It /would/ happen. 

Squall skidded back, sent sprawling by a particularly vicious charge, clutching at his ribs when he staggered to his feet. Seifer waited for magic, waited for Leonhart to call Shiva to wrap him in her icy embrace, even if he knew that blue bitch wasn't quite enough to save him. But those hands which should have been shaking from the pain by now were steady, and he gripped that hilt like it was some lover he'd never want to let go of. Before the raging lizard could come at him again, he made a vicious gash across its jaw, darting back to his defensive position with a quickness that Seifer had never had. Bright blood slicked down the darkness of his hair against his pale cheeks, dribbled and soaked in poppy blooms at the extravagant furred collar of his leather jacket. 

Seifer felt himself licking his lips before he knew he was doing it, only realized he'd done it by the wetness cooling across his skin.

The boy came around again, as if sensing the T-Rexaur was weakening; the monster snapped at him at just the right moment and gripped Leonhart's thin wrist in its teeth. Seifer almost thought he'd lose the hand, but the boy brought the heavy weight of the gunblade hilt-first between the beast's eyes, and it released him. Squall staggered back to his defensive, as bloodied as he'd managed to get his opponent. His legs sagged under him and he fell down to one knee, braced against his crimson-clotted gunblade.

Seifer ran his fingers over the lightly-textured grip of Hyperion, his leather gloves creaking as he flexed them against the hilt. Fuck, no 'Rex was gonna have Leonhart. That defeat was /his/. 

He strolled up to the battle with the laziness he used in making his way to class, cocking Hyperion with one hand and offering Squall the other one just because he knew it'd be refused. The T-Rexaur, however, wasn't about to wait for them to test each other's pride; it lunged towards the healthier newcomer; but Seifer knew from (far too much) experience how it'd attack, and he let it drive itself onto the length of his blade (Fucking stupid rexes). He watched it withdraw, splashing the ground with hot gore, and let himself steal a quick look at Leonhart's expression, ready for that satisfaction. 

Nothing. 

Not a fucking thing. No anger. No embarrassment. No gratitude (ha!). 

It took effort to smooth his own surprise from his face, swinging around to deter the 'Rex with an Ice attack. He swore as the spell rolled off his fingertips and stung coolly at the palm of his hand; he hadn't wanted to use magic, not when Leonhart hadn't so much as cast a Cure. 

He swung his blade back up to readiness, watching the 'Rex, but his attention was all on the crouching boy beside him. "You against a 'Rex, Leonhart? Are you fucking stupid," he taunted, "Or just into pain?"

He wasn't surprised when Squall managed to get to his feet, managed to make it look like his body wasn't fucked up in a thousand different places. "I don't need your help."

Seifer smirked widely; the emotion wouldn't show on Leonhart's face, but he'd gotten to the little bastard after all. "Maybe little boys like you oughtta listen when they tell you to run."

Leonhart ignored him, savagely attacking the lizard, betrayed by the weakening strength in his arms. 

"Better get your pansy ass to the infirmary," he barbed again, this time aiming for a kill. Squall could barely stand, but he could manage to strike the killing blow accidentally, now that they'd worn it down. Fuck if Seifer'd let him get away with that. His gunblade sank deeply into the 'Rex's heaving chest, but it was the additional fury of the blast that finished the beast off. He got out of the way as it crashed to the ground, turning to challenge Leonhart with his victory. 

"Do you follow me around so you can steal my kills, Seifer?" Squall braced his weapon over his shoulder, the downwards quirk of his mouth the only sign of how irritated he was. 

Seifer felt that knot inside of him twist a little tighter. Fuck, what was wrong with him? "A baby like you needs someone to keep his ass from getting smoked in the Training Area."

"Whatever."

Leonhart started walking towards the door, trying not to wince too visibly with each step. Seifer's guts seized again, and for a moment, something so intense washed over him that he drew his arm back to hit the arrogant son of a bitch. Squall's eyes met his own, a flickering moment of understanding, of pain and pride and necessity, and Seifer converted the action to another entirely. 

"Cure."

"Don't--" Leonhart managed, before the white nimbus flowed around him, soothed away the breaks and gashes that Seifer knew he wanted to keep, if only for just a little longer. Reminders of battle, reminders of the only moment that both of them ever felt truly alive... Seifer knew how it went. He was always looking for that himself. 

As the light faded from Squall's body, and Seifer let his hand sink back to his side, he finally earned that look of hate. His smirk got wider and the tangled skein of his guts wrenched to the breaking point. He somehow managed to reach out and pat that smooth, perfect cheek. "You're welcome, sweetheart." He pushed past Leonhart then, past that bloody, furiously delicious sight, much of a shame as that was. He'd get more later. He pushed open the doors leaving the Training Center, and was rewarded with the most gratifying reaction from Squall all night.

"Fuck you, Seifer."  



End file.
